Jul 28, 2023

New to me, anyway. Every now and then, I'm reminded of how utterly brilliant the Beatles were. It's music that'll live forever.

I hadn't heard "Things We Said Today" until tonight.

Lyrically, melodically, and thematically, it's just about perfect. My favorite music has changes I never expect. That's why I like Ozzy Osborne. Almost every one of his songs has a change or progression that takes me by surprise.

"Things We Said Today" is very haunting. I don't mind haunting. I prefer it to chirpy or peppy or bubbly. Currently there's a fad for ukuleles in radio commercials. I don't watch TV, so I don't know if ukes dominate TV ads too. Most ukulele music is nauseating. It's meant to be harmless, upbeat, and cute. I really despise cute. Music is too important an art form to be squandered on cute.

In the hands of masters, ukuleles can be powerful and moving.

"Tonight You Belong to Me," for example.

Or "The Theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly."

Too many people are afraid of genuine emotion, so they substitute kitsch, cuteness, weirdness, or smirky cynicism. They don't understand that you can be funny as hell and still be real. You can make people laugh and move them. You can produce art.

Yes, talent can be alienating, but only if you compare yourself to the one who has that gift. Instead of turning away because you can't play like that, sing like that, paint like that, or write like that, why not just let it sweep you along? Who cares if you can't play, sing, paint, or write like that? You can do other things.

Norman Rockwell said that his brother couldn't paint, but his brother could jump over three orange crates stacked on top of each other, something Norman could never do. Norman appreciated his brother's gift. I'd love to be able to jump over three orange crates stacked on top of each other, but I wouldn't have been able to do it even in my prime.

Now? I could vomit over three orange crates stacked on top of each other. I could probably even vomit over four orange crates stacked on top of each other, if I ingested the right amount of sodium, drank the right amount of coffee, and interacted with the right person to get my stress levels up.

Has Bill Maher ever moved you? He's made me want to move my bowels, but that's about it. Spending an hour with Bill would help me vomit over ten orange crates stacked on top of each other. Easily. That's his gift, I guess. He's an ipecac in human form. If someone's been poisoned, call in Bill Maher.

"Stand back, everybody! Here I am!"


Bless you, Bill.

My point is that genuine emotion won't kill you. It's the lack of genuine emotion that'll do you in.

You just won't know you're dead.